Canadian Blue
by brooklynrhyno
Summary: UPDATED: What happens when the Queen of Omega meets someone who doesn't care about her "one rule"? Also, who helped Commander Shepard become the BAMF we all know and love? All this and more in the one shots that follow! Rated M for S, L and V. Takes place before, during ME1, 2, and 3.
1. Chapter 1

**_Hello there. _**

**_This is just a one shot that I worked on while waiting in a hospital. All Characters are property of their respective owners. I have nothing. _**

**_Thinking about expanding this, as I already have a framework for it in my head. R&R and let me know if you think I should go for more!_**

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The lights were flashing their usual red and yellow pulse to the beat of the almost overwhelmingly loud music. The club dancers gyrated in their semi-pornographic movements in cages and platforms above the crowd. Liquor of all kinds flowed from the bars and the patrons didn't seem to have any intention of leaving at all. Shady deals were being brokered in shaded corners, propositions were made and accepted (or rejected if she wasn't "that type of girl"), death threats made and bluffs called and all was right in the world. Her world. Afterlife: haven and front office of operations for the self proclaimed Queen of Omega, Aria T'Loak. She was the baddest bitch in the galaxy and she had one very simple rule. Break that rule, and it was your ass out the nearest airlock. Whether you were still breathing when you went out of the airlock or not depended on how gracious she was feeling that day. That rule?

"Don't. Fuck. With. Aria."

She looked at the poor dumb turian girl who had decided that today was a good day to skim some of the profits from Arias Red Sand dealings. Aria had a weak spot for turian females, but that didn't extend to her purse. She had to know she was going to get caught sooner or later. Didn't she? It didn't matter, as Bray, the ever- present batarian lieutenant motioned to have her dragged away and spaced. Dumb kid was only nineteen years old. Oh well.

Arias Omni-tool beeped with an incoming call. It was Telak, another of her henchmen. This one was her Ambassador to anyone who docked at Omega. He would check out their ship to see if they were going to be trouble or not. If they were, they got a crash course orientation from the Queen herself. This one looked like it was going to be one of the former.

"What is it, Tea-Bag?" she mocked, using one of her favorite human euphemisms. Telak barely seemed to notice as he reported to her. "Aria, there's an Alliance shuttle here with a couple of guys looking for Shepard. Said they heard a rumor she was back from the dead or something."

Commander Shepard was reported as killed by a Geth dreadnought or something by the Alliance a couple of years ago. She had rolled onto the station looking rather alive and well, except for some facial scarring and an elcor-sized chip on her shoulder last week. Looks like someone else noticed that reports of her death were exaggerated.

Aria pinched the bridge of her nose with her index finger and thumb, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. "Fine, send them up. Then see if you can find some other way to report to me that doesn't involve me hearing your whiny voice, okay?"

"Yes Aria." He whined and signed off.

A few minutes later, she heard a commotion from down on the dance floor. She turned on her sofa, looking down at the crowd. A Krogan mercenary seemed to have picked a new victim to torment, and the crowd that gathered around them was growing. She couldn't hear what was being said, but from the reactions of the crowd, it wasn't pie recipes.

"Bray, what the hell is going on down there?" she demanded. Bray, to his credit, was already on his comm trying to get info from the other members of his group scattered as security in the club. As he seemed to be getting a report back, the crowd gathered around the Krogan gasped and screamed. Aria looked down again and saw the huge Krogan curled up in a fetal position on the ground holding his crotch. Blood seemed to be pooling on the ground beneath him and no one made a move to help. Rather, she saw the crowd part like the Red Sea, apparently to let through whoever it was that dropped the Krogan. Aria was beginning to suspect that this would be more trouble than it was worth.

Bray moved to the bottom of the stairs that led to Arias roost, looking to head off whoever the newcomers were. He was hoping to keep the nonsense out of Arias hair, figuratively speaking, and get back to reading the new Twilight novel that he had downloaded. Unfortunately, that didn't seem like it was going to happen that way.

"Sir, would you please slow down? There is a way to do things, regs to follow!" a voice called out.

"Take yer regs and shove 'em up yer ass, LT!" Another voice growled. Aria couldn't understand why, but the sound of that other voice made her hot in a way she hadn't felt in decades. "You got someone to find, let's find 'em and get outta this shithole."

Now Aria took offense. She stood up, rather than adopting her usual aloof posture on her couch. _No one calls this place a shithole except me,_ she thought to herself. She looked down and saw Bray put his hand up to impede the newcomers, and before he got out one syllable, he was knocked on his backside. Aria began flaring her biotics, wanting to deal with the unwelcome intrusion in the most painful and lethal way possible. No guns today, just Lashes, Flares, and Reaves. Ah, the simple pleasures.

A blue-armored figure with Alliance issued weapons strapped to his back jumped over Brays body on the ground, and turned around immediately. "Captain, we need to slow down!"

"Piss off, Alenko!" came the gruff reply. "Unless you want me to Bobbitt you like the turtle tank over there!" Aria began to descend the stairs and stopped. Pushing his way past the Alliance man he called Alenko was a short, gray haired man with a buzz-cut, muttonchops and a chomping on cigar, which was still lit and smoking. His face was worn, like good leather, but not too old looking. In contrast to the younger man, he wore no armor at all, rather wearing a black leather jacket over his fatigues and boots. He was also almost a foot shorter than Alenko, which made Aria pause. If he was so damned short, why didn't the larger man simply overpower him? She looked down at Bray still knocked out on the floor and put it all together: The older man was the troublemaker from the dance floor and the one who just knocked her lieutenant out like a chump. This promised to be interesting.

The older man looked at her, a feral glint in his eyes. "You!" he shouted at her. "You this Aria chick I've been 'warned' about?" making air quotes as he advanced on her. The Alenko chump seemed to be resigned to stand there and just watch, as the older man would not listen to him. Aria, in a move that she would have killed anyone for mentioning again, actually stepped back at the fury in his words. She felt a trickle of lust in the back of her mind as well as something she hadn't felt in a very long time: fear. This little man actually scared her and it was not something she would tolerate in her home.

"Little man, I don't know who you think you are barging in here like this, but you have three seconds to back off and go back to wherever rock it was you crawled out from under." She tried to make it sound threatening, but it came out a lot more pleading than she ever would have wanted. Goddess, he just oozed power and ferocity. Who the hell-

"Listen here, blueberry," he growled again, "I'm looking for a renegade Alliance officer name of Shepard. Word has it she's been here. You seen her?"

Aria gulped and looked down at the man as he advanced. He stopped and looked up at her, demanding an answer. She had had enough. No one demanded anything from her. She powered up her biotics, planning to use a Flare attack and fry the little bastard. "Hard of hearing, short stuff? Okay. One. Two…"

A flash of movement and a sound like a knife being drawn from a sheath came to her ears. She felt cold metal at either side of her neck. _How did he move so fast? _She panicked in her mind. Looking at the man, he held his fist under her chin and seemed to have two blades coming from his fist, framing her face. He looked her in the eyes, still chomping on the cigar. She felt a sharp point at the underside of her chin, slowly pressing upwards, threatening to puncture her.

"Wanna still go for 'three', blueberry?" he smirked. Alenko stood off to the side looking around to see if any of Arias men would make a move. Apparently, the sight of their boss being held at knifepoint was enough of an incentive to defend her against this diminutive man. They didn't make a move yet, and Alenko was secretly glad, as he didn't think that they would be able to fight their way out, even with his biotics and the captains… whatever it was he could do. Castrating krogans seemed to be something you didn't really put on a resume, but he was proficient at it.

"Didn't think so." The older man chuckled, not paying attention to the increase of manpower around them. "Alenko! Finish securing the perimeter of this dive and see if anyone else has seen your girlfriend. I don't think we'll have anymore problems with her Royal Highness here."

"Yes sir, Captain." Alenko managed and he took off, showing a picture of Shepard to the patrons he passed. No one seemed to be willing to cooperate, but it seemed like it was out of fear of betraying Aria more than anything else. But considering that no one moved to help her, she felt that they might as well have completed their betrayal of her by giving them the intel they wanted.

Cigar smoke threatened to choke her as the blades at her neck kept her in place. "Don't even twitch, darlin'" he growled. "Been dealing with special cases like you long enough to know when you're getting' jumpy. Don't do it."

"You really think you can get away with this?" Aria grunted, the points of the blades pushing into her neck, making her raise up on the balls of her feet to alleviate the pain of them. She was off balance, and at this mans mercy. Part of her wanted to skin him alive and roll him in salt, while another part of her, a _secret_ part of her, wanted to whimper and moan and beg him to take her right there in the middle of the floor like a maiden. She was very conflicted.

"Yes, I do. Cuz I am." He replied. "Stay still, unless you want a new piercing in an inconvenient spot."

"You have no idea who you are fucking with, little man." She grunted, trying to maintain her balance. The man looked at her and smiled a toothy, feral grin around his cigar. _Does he have . . . fangs?_ She wondered as she looked down at him. "Girl, I could say the same thing about you. Only thing is, I would be right, and you would just be thinking too highly of yerself."

The man pressed the blades up slightly, forcing Aria to back up the stairs. He pressed on until the back of her knees hit the edge of the couch. She stumbled back and fell into the couch, thankfully away from the blades in his hand. She looked up at him now, and saw that the knives looked more like short blades, or even claws that protruded from between his knuckles. The ones that were fully extended seemed to be a foot long each, while the middle one had yet to be fully extended. How he managed to conceal weapons like that in his fist was beyond her, and she was glad to be away from them.

Massaging the spot on her chin where the one blade was poking, she grimaced. _If he drew blood…_she thought to herself. The man seemed to no longer be interested in her, rather, looking out at the crowd for the younger man who was with him. He raised his hand to his comm device and called for him.

"Alenko, sit-rep." he barked. With Alenko halfway across the club, everyone grew a spine and decided to protect their boss.

Two batarians shouldered their rifles and opened fire on the older man, catching him squarely in the chest. It didn't appear that he had any body armor or shielding to protect himself, much to Arias surprise. _Over confident_, she thought. _That's too bad. He was kind of cute. _

"Captain!" Alenko cried out, drawing his pistol and whipping a Throw at the assailants. They smashed into the wall, dropping their weapons. Another merc opened fire on Alenkos position, and his shields shimmered as they absorbed the kinetic energy of the rounds, causing them to drop to the ground harmlessly. Kaiden turned and fired several shots at the merc, dropping his shields and putting a round in his head, killing him instantly.

Another Krogan merc came out of nowhere and slammed into Kaiden, flinging him into a table and smashing to the ground. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs, and looked up to see the Krogan drawing a shotgun on him. His shields were barely restored, and he knew his armor wouldn't handle a blast at close range. His L2 amp was still cooling off, so a Barrier would not be ready in time. The last thing he saw flash before him was the beautiful redhead he was trailing. _Shepard_, he thought_, I hope you are out there somewhere. _

As Kaiden prepared to meet his maker, a roar erupted from above him. He opened his eyes and saw a blur smash into the Krogan. The merc stumbled back and the captain landed on his feet in front of him, shielding Kaiden. He flexed his arms and three foot-long claws snapped from between the knuckles of each of his hands. They glinted in the light of the club as he moved to attack the Krogan again. As he raised his shotgun to blast the captain, he swung a clawed hand, slicing the barrel of the shotgun. As the pieces fell to the ground, the captain moved in, swiping at the gut of the Krogan, causing his entrails to spill out onto the floor. He moved so fast that the rapid healing properties of the Krogan never had a chance to kick in. As he moved to try and hold in his guts, the captain lunged, burying both sets of claws into the chest of the Krogan, destroying both hearts.

The Alliance captain eliminated the merc with such speed and ferocity, all of Arias other men dropped their weapons and walked away. The captain turned around, looking at Kaiden. He retracted his claws and offered him a hand up asking, "You okay, kid?" Kaiden took the offered hand and got up off of the floor. "Yeah, I'm good."

"So, what were you saying before we were so rudely interrupted?"

"Several maybes, but nothing definite, sir." Came the reply. He sounded like such a beta-male. "How was it on your end?"

The older man looked over at Aria with a smile. "Us? Getting along great. She promised to tell me everything we need. Just give me a couple, will ya?"

"Yes sir." Alenko holstered his weapon as the older man turned back and walked over to Aria. "Gonna make me a liar, darlin'?" He asked.

She couldn't believe he got back up from taking those blasts to the chest, and then he eliminated a Krogan in hand-to-gun combat. There was obviously more to him than met the eye. No armor, no shields. He must be part Krogan himself. "Gonna make you a corpse, you son of a b-"

A flash of movement, then the blades, _claws_, where centimeters from her face. Aria froze, eyes as wide as saucers. _No one can move that fast. Even Shepard's not that fast_. She thought.

"Look, I'm done playin' games. Did you see this chick or not?"

Aria decided to play along and just get him out of her hair, figuratively speaking. "Fine. She was here last week, tearing up the place looking for a salarian doctor and a vigilante named Archangel. Don't know where she went from here, but my people tell me the guy running the clinic in the lower neighborhood may have a way to contact the doctor. You can track Shepard that way."

The older man smiled and lowered his hand. Then in a flash, the claws retracted into his fist, presumably housed in his forearm. He shook his hand a little, as if to dispel the discomfort of retracting the blades. "There, that wasn't so hard, was it?" he smiled. Aria looked away, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer. Alenko came back, bounding up the stairs. "Captain?" he asked.

"Go find the clinic, shake down the kid running the place to get in touch with his old doctor friend. He's with Shepard."

"Roger that." He turned to go, then turned back around. "You coming, sir?"

"Nah, tired of chasin' yer girlfriend. You go ahead. Have fun." His Omni-tool beeped and he looked down at it. Reading the message he grunted and shut everything off. "Scratch that, kid. New orders: I'm heading back to Vancouver, and you are heading out to Horizon. Colonists there need some help getting their defenses and stuff together. Looks like a hand holding mission. Kinda like me taking care of you."

Alenko smirked. "Fine, be that way. You sure you can find your way home, old man?" He laughed at Alenko and looked at Aria with a feral smile. "Yeah, I'll be okay. Right, darlin'? No one gonna give me any trouble leaving?"

Aria composed herself and smiled sweetly. "Of course. We'll be more than happy to escort you off of the station. Just pick an airlock." The man smiled at her, then looked at Alenko. "See? I'll be fine."

"Ok. You get to file the report on this one, then. See you around, sir." Alenko saluted and the older man returned the salute. As he left, the older man turned and sat himself down on the couch next to Aria. She felt repulsed at the audacity of the man, yet she didn't want to move away. The older man leaned back, crossing a leg over his knee and laying a hand on Arias shoulder. "You okay, girl?"

Aria looked at the hand on her shoulder, and then up at him. The venom in her gaze didn't seem to faze him, and she didn't shake herself free from his touch. "Fine. Why aren't you gone yet?"

The older man laughed and took his hand back. "Well, in spite of me gettin' in your face like that, and slicing up your guy like I did, I don't think you want me gone. Not yet anyway."

"What makes you think that, old man?"

He laughed a little, and then he leaned into her. She froze as he sniffed the length of her neck, taking in her scent. Her skin broke out in goose bumps and she shivered slightly. He leaned away from her a little and looked into her eyes. "You want me." He stated simply.

Arias eyes went wide. _How did he…?_ "I think you've gone soft upstairs, buddy." She said, not too convincingly. The man grinned and said, "Pheromones don't lie, darlin'." Aria pressed her lips into a thin line, barely holding her anger in check. "I suggest you take advantage of your good fortune and leave, little man. My people tend to regroup in a hurry."

He looked around, noticing several mercs getting their weapons out again and advancing on them. He didn't even look like he was bothered. Rather, he chuckled to himself and said, "Overstayed my welcome?"

Aria stood up and looked down at him. "Oh yes. Very much so." Truthfully, she didn't need to lose any more men. The way this guy moved, like lightning, and looking like he should be a grandfather somewhere, it all didn't add up. She didn't see things working out in her favor if she ordered her men to attack him again. Her biotics would be useless if he moved as fast as he did just messing with her. And, yes, she did want him. It was inexplicable, but he did things to her without even trying. He had to go. Now.

The captain slapped his hands on his thighs and bounced up off of the couch. "Ah well. Can't win 'em all, right?" She knew that he meant that she couldn't win them all, but she wasn't about to admit to it. She merely rolled her eyes and turned away from him. He did nothing but laugh at her since he walked in the place, as if fearing her wasn't even in the realm of possibility. She had never, _never_ been so infuriated with someone in her entire life. With a lifespan that was measured in centuries, that said a lot.

The short, fuzzy old man walked up behind her, slapped her bottom, and skipped down the stairs. She wheeled on him, reaching to grab him and choke the living crap out of him, claws or not. When she grabbed his jacket and turned him around, for a split second she saw that damned smile of his again. _That's it_, she thought, _I'm going to kill him._ Instead, she planted her lips on his, smashing her body against him. She basically dry humped him as her hands ran all over his back, trying to merge through his clothes. He gave as good as he got, grabbing her bottom and lifting her leg up so that it wound around his waist. They made out like horny teenagers for a minute, and then she made a move she would regret.

Aria took both of her hands and placed them on either side of his face. Her eyes turned solid black and she whispered two words:

"Embrace Eternity."

Melding with the captain, she fell into his memories, which were so jumbled and so extensive that she thought she had melded with two people instead of one. Images of wars on Earth from long ago, swords, muskets, horses, tanks, giant robots with hellish yellow eyes, all threatened to overwhelm her. She had melded with others many times in her nearly one thousand years, but never with a short lived species like this human. He was as intense in his own mind as he was when she was dealing with him face to face.

Then it seemed that he was fighting the meld, pushing her out of his mind. He was a human, and had no right to have that level of discipline. Yet here he was, smacking her with a psionic equivalent of a door slammed in the face. The last thing she saw was a stunningly beautiful redhead that resembled Shepard, but was even more entrancing with the flames dancing along her body. Was that who she was, or how he saw her? She never got the chance to find out as a fist struck her jaw with the force of a tank. She broke the meld and fell to the ground, disoriented and in pain.

Aria looked up at the captain, who looked at her with disgust. "The hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded. Aria managed to focus on him before answering. "Learning about you." She answered, her head still ringing from the blow she took.

The captain smirked and offered her a hand. She took it and allowed him to bring her to her feet. "Darlin', better than you have tried and failed that mind meld crap. I've been bouncing psychics outta my head for a very, very long time." He straightened out his jacket and took another cigar out. He lit it and exhaled a plume of smoke. "We done messing around, or do you want to take me back to your place?"

Aria composed herself. There was so much more to this little old man than he portrayed, and she needed to find out what it was. She had never encountered this before, but she had to maintain her reputation. She couldn't lose control of herself like that again. She gathered herself and then gestured to her men. They advanced, weapons drawn. The captain never took his eyes off of her, devouring her body with his glances. She felt her body responding to his attention and decided enough was enough.

"What ship is your shuttle going to now that your baby boy left you?" She asked. The captain replied, "Going to rendezvous with the _Tai Shan_. Why?"

Aria turned away. "Just go." She growled. The captain shrugged his shoulders and turned to the turian on his right. "All right bird-boy. Show me out like a good little puppy."

Aria didn't watch him go. Rather, she sat down on her couch and held her head in her hands. The meld didn't last that long, but she was devastated by the ending of it. She would crave that man until she died, and there was nothing to be done about it. He was Alliance, and she was Omega. That would never work. She hated herself for wanting him, with his smug laugh and that knowing smile and those lips, Goddess those lips. She shook herself and tried to get back to normal. She looked up and saw Bray finally getting his act together. His boss had been humiliated and what was to be done for it?

"Boss? You okay?" he asked, expecting a bullet in the throat. Aria simply sighed and looked away from him. He took that as a cue to leave, knowing he was lucky to do so. The music in the club came back on a while ago, and began to drown out her thoughts. She leaned back on the couch and closed her eyes, thinking about worn leather, cigars, and sexy grey hair.

After a while, her Omni-tool beeped, as a message came in. She looked down at the address. It was from the _SSV Tai Shan_, but from an unknown sender. She opened the message.

_"This a secure line?"_

_"Yes"_ she typed. _"Who is this?"_

_"Guess."_

_"I hate games."_ Was it a full moon out tonight? She was attracting pains in the ass like flies to crap.

_"Okay."_ They replied. _"You deserve better, since you are a pretty decent kisser."_

Him! _"Why are you messaging me? How did you get my address so quickly?"_

_"I have my ways."_

She imagined he was smiling again. _"What the hell do you want?"_

_"Next time I'm around, let's finish what you started."_ More? Yes, no! What?

_"Don't flatter yourself."_ She typed. She didn't believe herself, but it was necessary.

_"You're lying."_ He replied. _"See you around, blueberry."_

She was done. _"Fine. Maybe. If you tell me your name for crying out loud."_

"_Always kiss first, ask questions later?"_

Ugh. Fine. _"No. You may be an exception if you're lucky."_

_"'Kay. Later darlin'."_

Not yet_. "Name? Don't make me hurt you."_

_"I might like that."_ Infuriating sonavabitch! _"You?"_

_"Name?"_

_"Captain in the Alliance Special Ops Unit, X-Division. You can call me Logan."_

_"One name? Like Sha'ira?"_ she smirked.

_"Makes it easier for you to scream later."_

Yummy. What? No! Ugh! _"Goodbye."_ She typed and closed her messenger. She set her network to keep tabs on the Tai Shan, and leaned back into her couch again. _Logan_, she thought. She got warm on the inside thinking about the captain who upended her life. Then she hated herself for it. Then she wanted it some more. Ugh!

"BRAY!" she screamed. The batarian rushed over to her. "Yeah boss?"

"Find me a cigar." She said. "Then find me someone to throw out an airlock. It's been a rough day."


	2. Chapter 2

**_Greetings! _**

**_Didn't anticipate the attention for this crossover stuff. Apparently, Logan has some life left in him outside of the Marvel Universe. So, in response to the Follows that the original one shot gained, my juices got flowing and I decided to run a mini series of one shots showing Logan's life in the Mass Effect Universe. _**

**_As usual, please read and review! I love feedback. _**

**_Bioware and Marvel own all these guys. They're just visiting._**

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Let Off the Leash

August 17, 2183

This was it. The final training was about to start, and she was determined to blast right through it. After Torfan, Alliance brass said that they had someone special on their hands. Sending three quarters of your squad to their deaths wasn't something 'special' to her, but apparently it meant something to the higher-ups. It was a bitch of a decision to make, but one that she would make again in a heartbeat. The mission always came first, and in her eyes, batarians needed to be wiped out completely. All they had done since humanity began to colonize the planets in the Terminus Systems was attack, enslave, and murder any humans they set their four eyes on. It was the one time she felt that genocide was completely warranted, if only for the protection of the other races in Terminus space.

She had seen the reports from Mindoir, when slavers attacked that colony, and when they attacked Elysium during the Blitz. Yeah, a bullet in each of their four eyes would let her sleep easier at night. Maybe a lot of other people would feel the same way. Did that make her a bad person? What would her mother think if she could know what was going on in her head? Would she be proud? Disown her? If so, then she would accept it. She wanted Torfan to be a warning to all batarians: Don't Mess With Shepard.

She turned down the corridor, her footsteps echoing along the walls. The coolness of the corridors surprised her, even for a pre-fab station such as Pinnacle. As she was only wearing her BDU's rather than her usual combat armor, she didn't have the usual insulation she had become accustomed to. She passed several other N-school trainees in the hall, each looking as if a Krogan battlemaster had used them as a punching bag. Her brow furrowed, trying to determine why they would be in such a state. She had no idea what the final stage of N-school training was, except that it was the most difficult level to finish. She had been involved in live combat missions already, completing each task with a skill and determination that hadn't been seen in the N-School in years. These soldiers, however, looked as if they would never get past N6, which in itself was a major accomplishment. But she was a finisher; she would not settle for only glimpsing the Promised Land. No, she would kick the door down, stride right into it and set up shop there in style.

She stood before the locked door, the red light from the door's condition display glowing brightly in the dimly lit hall. She took a deep breath and exhaled. No turning back now. This was it, the one for all the marbles. She hit the intercom and said, "Instructor Howlett? N7 candidate reporting for training."

"Name?" came a gruff reply through the intercom.

"Lieutenant Jane Shepard, Alliance Service Number 5923-AC-2826. I was-"

"Yeah, yeah, come on in, kid. Been expecting you." Shepard looked at the intercom with a puzzled expression on her face. Formality and protocol should still be adhered to, even in N-School, but that didn't seem to bother the person on the other side of the door. The lock disengaged as the door slid open. A row of lights in the ceiling revealed a sparsely decorated room, painted a neutral beige color. There were no windows, only a door on the opposite side of the room. In the center of the room was a desk and two chairs, one on either side of the front of the desk. She couldn't see if there was one behind the desk, because there was a man leaning on the front of the desk looking intently at a data pad.

The man in question was James "Logan" Howlett. He was short, about five foot three inches or so. Shepard could tell that at the very least she was taller than him. He wore a pair of Alliance blue fatigue pants and boots, and an Alliance regulation black t-shirt. His dog tags were visible as they were dangling on the outside of his shirt. He was older, probably about forty-five to fifty years old, with a buzz cut of salt and pepper hair. The salt seemed to be winning that war, and the muttonchops that adorned his jowls continued the same pattern. He was stocky, carrying nothing but muscle. He didn't have the usual middle age muscle build, like Anderson, but he had a build like a younger man in his prime who had just finished his daily workout at the gym.

Shepard stopped in front of him, standing at parade rest. She tilted her head to the left, trying to catch his attention. Logan seemed to be unaware of her presence, despite having opened the door for her and allowing her to enter. The smoke from a cigar sitting on the desk wafted towards her, causing her to cough, which then caught the instructor's attention.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, Shepard." He seemed to come back to the present, putting down the datapad he was reviewing. "Torfan, huh? That was a cluster-grope if I ever saw one."

Shepard bristled at that, wondering what he meant. "Sir, I thought we were here for my final training series?"

"Huh? Yeah, you're here for your N7 series training for field deployment and command assignment." Logan walked around to the seat behind the desk and plopped down, putting his feet up on the desk, grabbing his cigar and taking a deep drag on it. He actually inhaled the smoke fully, rather than just savoring it in his mouth, and then he exhaled it. "What in the hell makes you think I'm letting you go to N7?"

Shepard stood at attention. _This must be part of the psychological evaluation_, she thought. "Sir, I've completed all the prerequisite series for the N7 candidacy, with top marks. I've also logged three months in the Command Villa, seventy five hours in APC transport training, accrued full Marksman qualification credits in assault rifles, sniper rifles, handguns, shotguns, and several experimental firearms and ammunition modifications. Also-"

"Shut up, will ya?" Logan barked, waving a hand in the air dismissively. Shepard felt like she was three seconds from putting a bullet in the man's throat, but she reigned in her rising frustration. "Look, I asked you what makes you think I'm letting you go to N7, not for you're fraggin' resume!" He took his feet off of the desk and leaned forward on the desk with his elbows. Looking up at Shepard he said, "Kid, you can come in here and tell me you can shoot a mosquito from between its wings from a thousand yards in a snowstorm while riding a bucking bronco that's been fed caffeine for three months. It doesn't answer my question." He took another drag on his cigar and blew it out. He pointed the cigar at her and said, "Why should I let you go to N7?"

Shepard took a beat. What did he want, an essay? "Sir, I'm afraid I don't understand what you're looking for here." She replied. "I'm finished with the pre-reqs and I thought that this was supposed to be the beginning of my final series, not a existential discussion forum!" Her anger began rising towards the end, and it showed as she raised her voice at the end. Logan sat back and arched an eyebrow at her. Shepard cursed silently, knowing that no matter how he treated her, it was supposed to just be one more obstacle for her to overcome. This was not going well.

"Look, it's obvious to me that you have a problem, lieutenant. A problem which you think is an asset, but it's actually a hindrance." Logan stated. "You think that you're better than anyone else, that you can't be beat, that you won't be beaten. That kinda crap thinking is what gets people under your command killed for no reason." He paused and stood up, making his way to the front of the desk. He took the cigar and smashed it into an ashtray, extinguishing it. Shepard stood silently, waiting for the rest of this unwelcome appraisal of her ability to command. Her ability to control her anger was slowly slipping away as Logan stopped in front of her and looked up at her. Looking from the outside in, seeing such a short man looking up at a woman who was at least half a foot taller than him would almost be comical. Shepard was not in a joking mood, and neither was he.

"Permission to speak freely, sir." Shepard asked through gritted teeth. The instructor took a step back, but it didn't seem like he was relinquishing the authority he held. He actually smiled, looking as if he welcomed the challenge she planned on presenting. "Go for it, Red."

Shepard visibly bristled. "What did you mean when you said that Torfan was a cluster-grope?" she asked.

"You screwed the pooch, that's what I mean. You chased those batarians through those caverns and gunned them down in cold blood." He pointed a finger at her, as her eyes went wide with anger. "Your team didn't need to die, and you murdered, yeah, _murdered_ the ones who surrendered."

"What should I have done, sir?" She shot back. "Should I have accepted their so-called surrender so they could shoot me in the back the second I turned away?"

Logan rubbed a hand through his hair and shook his head in disbelief. "Subdue, restrain, you had biotics in your squad, they could have put them in Stasis until the back up you _should_ have requested arrived. Instead, you had twenty people killed for no damned reason. You went in there like some kinda animal instead of the soldier you were trained to be."

"I got the job done, dammit! Those bastards killed, slaved and destroyed too many people to be allowed to live!" she yelled down at him. Her face was flush with anger now, regulations be damned. If it was a verbal fight he wanted, then that's what he was going to get.

"You're an Alliance Marine, Shepard, not God. You don't get to make those kind of decisions."

"In command situations-"

"Kid, you don't know squat about handling command situations." He interrupted. "You think because you tell people where to shoot and when to run that makes you an expert in command?"

"Oh, you made some lucky shots during First Contact and you think you're a command expert yourself, shorty?" she retorted. "Who's ass did you have to kiss to get out of the field and slapped behind a desk?"

A feral look came over Logan's face as his face was split in a grin. "Darlin', you got two seconds to rein it in before you say something I'm gonna regret."

Somehow, Shepard was able to see through the red haze that was covering her vision and realize that she needed to calm down. She was doing exactly what he was accusing her of on Torfan: leading by emotion. She was a marine, a damned good soldier, and she needed to be able to control herself in order to accomplish her mission. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling through pursed lips. When she opened her eyes, Logan had turned away from her, walking back to the desk. _Wait, he just turned his back on me? _She thought. _What the hell?_

Logan picked up another cigar and lit it. "Look, Red," he said as he exhaled more thick smoke. "You got something in you that you gotta deal with, but I don't think you can do it here. Unfortunately, it's something that you are gonna have to learn with life experience."

Shepard looked at him with a puzzled expression. "So, what does that mean, sir?"

"It means that I get to stop playing shrink with you, because I need to get you through your training. You pass and you can go out there and get yerself or another platoon of soldiers killed, thus wasting the millions of credits the Alliance has invested in you, I guess." Her eyes narrowed at this, but he didn't seem to notice. Either that, or he was just choosing to ignore her reactions at this point. He pointed to the door at the other end of the room. "All you gotta do is get past me and go through that door." He said. "Do that, and you can have fun trying to be an N7."

Shepard did a double take at that. "What? I thought this was a training class."

Logan looked at her sideways. "It is, your last one. Get past me and you get to change your business cards." He stepped from behind the desk and blew another plume of smoke out. "You ready?"

Shepard took a deep breath in and exhaled. Finally, something she knew how to do. All the psychobabble and character assassination she was undergoing was driving her crazy, and she was having a hard time not putting a bullet in the instructors' throat. She growled at him, "Fine. Let's get started."

She moved to the door, and the instructor moved in front of her, blocking her path. He didn't even look at her when he did that, and Shepard was getting pissed. She sidestepped to the right, and he mirrored her movement, still blocking her. He looked up at her and grinned. "Gonna get started anytime soon, Red?" Yes, she was.

Shepard swung a right hook at the man, which he leaned back from and dodged easily. He leaned forward again, smacking her across the face with an open right hand. It looked like a slap, but it hit like a brick. Her head snapped back and she felt blood begin to collect in her mouth. Her cheek felt hot and tight where he had made contact, and she felt her heartbeat in her head. She shook the cobwebs out and focused on the man again. He stood casually with his hands at his sides as if they weren't engaged in combat. _Were they engaged in combat_? She wondered as she tried to strike him again.

Another right hook, another backwards lean, and another smack to the face, this time with his left hand meeting her right cheek. "You gonna try and hit me, or just keep fanning air at me?" he asked. She snarled at him and tried again. Hook. Lean. Smack! Hook. Lean. Smack! She was getting a concussion, and he was getting bored.

"Look, you wanna try something else, darlin'?" he asked her, hooking his thumbs into his belt loops. "I got like five other kids gotta go through this, and you're holding up the line."

His lack of respect for her had finally become ridiculous. She shifted her feet and threw a low kick at him, causing him to skip backwards. She followed with a left jab and another hook. He tapped her incoming hands, deflecting each bow she tried to land. After her first volley of attacks, she circled around to his left, trying to find an opening. Truthfully, he was leaving himself wide open. It was just that he moved so fast when he countered her that it was as if he was in her head. They danced back and forth, now. She tried every method she could remember, and he countered each attack easily. It would be comical if the stakes weren't so high.

"C'mon, ain't got all day, Red." He mocked. Shepard spun on her front foot, whipping a kick at his head. Logan ducked and as he stood up again, Shepard launched a punch straight at his head, which finally connected.

"OWWWWWW!" she screamed as she cradled her now fractured hand. The instructor stood up, but dropped his head at the last second, causing her to strike the top of his skull. He sucked his teeth and shook his head disapprovingly. "Need some medi-gel for that, Red?" he asked. Shepard lashed out with a kick to his mid-section, as he got closer, landing a blow. He staggered back a step and smiled. "There ya go!" he laughed. "But that ain't gonna cut it for N7. What else ya got?"

Shepard swung at him with her injured hand, meaning to use it as a feint. He deflected it as if it were a legitimate attack, causing pain to shoot back along her arm. He stepped closer to her, striking her solar plexus with and open palm strike. The air whooshed out of her as she fell back and went to one knee on the ground. Trying to catch her breath, she assessed her options. One bad hand, bruised face with her eyes rapidly swelling shut, her jaw probably fractured, no weapons, and an opponent that hit like a tank. Common sense would say to call it a day, especially after seeing those other candidates in the hall earlier.

"So," he huffed, interrupting her thoughts. "Why should I let you go to N7 again?"

ENOUGH! She was Jane Shepard, the "Butcher of Torfan" and she was going to show this little runt why she deserved that title by ripping him apart one way or another. She would make N7 today! She stood up, took a painful breath and then set her feet to try again. Her instructor stood in front of her, blocking her view of her goal; the door. One door, only ten or fifteen feet away, and she would be off to her new life. He wouldn't stand in her way.

She ripped a strip the bottom of her uniform top and wrapped it around her busted hand, trying to give it some support. She tugged at the end of the fabric with her teeth, tightening it. She set her stance and lifted her hands. "Let's dance, you little midget." She whispered. He smiled and copied her, stepping back a little to give them some space to work.

She snapped a front kick at him, and as he deflected it, she recoiled and swung the same foot at his head. He stepped back to dodge and she pressed the attack, throwing a side-thrust kick at him. She planted the forward foot and spun on the ball, whipping around with a reverse roundhouse. He caught the foot with his right hand and snatched her off balance, bringing his fist down towards her face. She barely had time as she was falling to raise her arm up to block his attack, and she took the blow on her forearm. She felt the muscles in her arm seize up and not want to work again. _He must have smashed a nerve cluster_, she thought as she struggled to regain her balance. _That or he fractured it_.

Logan circled around her, dancing on the balls of his feet and taunting her. "C'mon, 'Butcher', show me what you got." He kicked at her head, which she deflected with her hands, causing pain to shoot through the injured one. She stood up threw a punch with her good hand. He snatched her arm at the wrist, and then stepped into her frame, grabbing her shirt with the other hand. He spun and flung her over his shoulder, sending her sailing into the desk and chairs. She smashed into them, hitting the floor hard afterwards. Somehow, she was back on her feet as soon as she hit the ground. She lunged at him, and he sidestepped, throwing a kick into her ribs. She lost her breath and was sure she heard at least one of them snap. She hit the ground in a heap, and then rolled to her back. She looked up and saw the man standing near the desk looking at her.

"'N7'?" he asked no one in particular. "Not on my watch, Red. Come back when you've learned a few more things."

"Like what? How to push paperwork and hit like a sick Drell?" she spat at him.

"Girl, you just ain't ready. You can't get past one, little old man, how can I clear you to be an elite commando that's ready to storm the gates of hell?" He shook his head. "Seek life elsewhere, Lieutenant."

She took a second to evaluate her situation. Now, with their positions reversed, she rolled to her feet and tried for the door. She took two steps and felt something smash into the back of her legs, toppling her. Her chin hit the ground first, cracking her teeth. She felt more blood flood her mouth, and the pain shot through her head like a lightning bolt. She rolled onto her side and curled up into a fetal position. Her ribs were like knives in her sides, and she could barely catch her breath again.

She heard footsteps coming towards her. They stopped at her head, and she could vaguely sense the instructor standing near her. He reached down and picked up the chair he threw at her legs to stop her. "Got to know what's in your environment, girl." He righted the chair and sat down in it. "Shepard?" he asked, "You done, girl? Want some water or something?"

Goodness, she did. Painkillers, a warm bed, and three weeks of sleep would be awesome right now. It felt like every time he hit her, it was with a sledgehammer. There was no reason for him to be able to hit her so hard. And he was so fast! He was at least twice her age and twice as fast. How was she going to get past him? She had no guns, no knives, and no other weapons except her fists, and one of them was broken by now. Her chances of beating this man were going from slim to none at breakneck speed. She had finished six levels of the most demanding training known to man, and she couldn't get past one man.

She groaned and sat up, clutching her side. She looked at the instructor and winced as the various pains she had accumulated began to make themselves known all at once. She was beginning to black out, but she refused to quit. "Gimme, unh, five minutes, and I'll be ready to kick your ass all day, old man."

The "old man" laughed. "Girl, you still don't get it. You're trying to achieve something that most soldiers only dream of, something that most of your superiors haven't achieved, and you still think like a grunt." He exhaled and pinched his nose. "You get one shot at this. What do you want to do?"

Shepard's breath became ragged, as the pain in her ribs kept getting worse. She knew there was something she was missing. He kept trying to push her, while beating her worse than she had ever been beaten before. It wasn't the damage, though it was severe, but the ease with which he did it. She couldn't find a way to beat him, not now, not in this state. She hated her weakness, her inability to fight harder, faster, better. She was a Marine, and Marines don't quit. But her head was swirling, both from a lack of ideas and from the damage she incurred. She felt the walls she had built up over the years begin to crumble, the weakness she thought she had beaten out of herself through the years of training coming back. She actually began to cry. Hot tears came unbidden and flowed down her face.

Logan looked at her without sympathy or pity. He seemed disappointed for her, rather than in her. He leaned over, resting his elbows on his knees. "Jane? All you gotta do to finish this course is get past me." he whispered. "It's that simple. You've gone through six back breaking series to get here. That door is your finish line. Can you do it, soldier? Can you make it the seven feet it's gonna take to get there?"

She couldn't, she knew it. She looked up at him and hated him with a fury she never felt before. She couldn't help the words as they came out of her mouth. They sounded full of sarcasm in her head, but as they came out, the pleading whine that colored them sickened her.

"What if I say 'please'? Will you let me go then?"

Logan looked at her, tilting his head. "Are you asking me to let you go? Just stand aside and let you walk through that door, making your N7?" He looked away from her as if he was actually contemplating it. He was a cruel bastard, she thought, and if she had the chance, she would kill him, Alliance soldier or not. He actually looked back at her and smiled. "Give it a shot, kid."

_What the hell?_ She thought. How much crap was she expected to take? This was some other cruel joke he was going to play on her, she was certain. At this point, however, she knew she had nothing to lose. So, gathering up the last shred of dignity she had left, she straightened up and looked him square in the eye. "Would you _please_ step aside and let me through, sir?" she managed through gritted teeth.

He took a moment, then stood up and offered her his hand. "Stand up, Commander."

_'Commander'?_ "Sir?" she must have been hearing things. "What did you say?"

He offered her his hand again. "You heard me. Well, I guess it's actually 'Lieutenant Commander', but you know how that goes. Everyone will just call you 'Commander' except when introducing you formally or something. But yeah, stand up, Commander Shepard."

She looked at him quizzically, but reached out and took the offered hand. He reached down and helped her stand up, shaky as she was. She managed to stand on her own after he assisted her, even with her ribs screaming at her. She took a ragged breath and said, "What's going on here, sir?"

"You passed, Red." He replied. "Go on through, grab your gear, get yourself checked out by the doc, and you should be shipping out tomorrow." He activated his Omni-tool and flipped a few buttons. "Yeah, you'll be shipping out with Captain Anderson." He closed the screen and looked at Shepard. "What's the matter? You didn't change your mind, did you?"

Her mind was whirling, both from the injuries and from the information she was just given. Commander? She made it through her final series, or more accurately she survived her final series. Was this what everyone else had to go through? She began to swoon a little and the instructor reached out to catch her. He got her steady and grabbed the chair with his free hand, setting her down in it.

"Here ya go. Take a seat, girl." He squatted in front of her, looking up at her face. She looked at him in complete confusion. "What is happening, sir?" she asked. "How did I pass?"

He patted her knee and sat down on the floor. "Remember what happened when you were on Torfan?" She nodded slowly, still not understanding. "Yeah, of course I do."

"No, not the actual operation. Do you remember what happened to _you_ on Torfan?"

Shepard took a moment, casting her mind back to that horrible time. Her team was chasing the last of the batarian slavers through the caverns. They had them cornered, but it was like the last stand of the 300 Spartans in reverse. The batarians had her team feeding into a chokepoint and they tore into the first wave she sent in. Her men were being torn apart and she was seeing red. Her blood began to boil and she screamed for the rest of her team to attack. They followed her order and poured ammunition into the cave, slaughtering the slavers. She lost all of her forward force, but she had done the deed; the slavers were dealt with.

She remembered her boiling hatred, the lack of logical reasoning. Her superiors overlooked the fact that, yes, she should have called for and waited for backup to arrive. She let her emotions get the best of her. She could have starved them out, negotiated their surrender, utilizing the biotics on her squad to restrain the slavers. Everything that Logan had chastised her for, her superiors overlooked. She had earned the nickname "Butcher of Torfan", and the greatest victim was herself. She buried compassion, logic, her training, everything, and gave in to her rage, her hate, that darkness in her that had no regard for anything but it's own gratification. She didn't allow herself to see any other options but death.

Logan looked up at her, seeming to read her thoughts and smiled. "You get it now?" he asked. "You understand what happened then and today?"

She looked at him and said, "Rage, just a berserker type of Viking rage or something."

Logan stood up and walked over the desk and opened a drawer. He withdrew a set of dog tags on a chain and whistled at Shepard. She looked over at him as he tossed the tags at her. She caught them and looked at them. "See, the thing is, kid, I know a thing or two about going berserk." He said as he walked back towards her.

Shepard turned the tags over and then looked at him. "'Wolverine'? What's that?"

"Call sign from my past life." He replied. "Nasty little animal. No regard for its own safety. It's crazy enough to take down an animal five times its size. Only thing about it is that it'll go in with no plan; just rage." He put a hand on her shoulder. "Sound familiar?"

She handed the dog tags back to him and nodded. "Yeah, I guess so." She looked down at the floor and whispered, "What do I do, then?"

Logan sighed and said, "You have the makings of a great soldier, Shepard. You just need to learn when to use restraint and allow yourself to think outside of the box. Sometimes, the answer to your problem is to avoid conflict, rather than running headlong into it just because everyone else would. The flipside of that is that you need to know when to let her off the leash and when to keep her chained up."

"'Her' who?" She asked.

"'The Butcher of Torfan', girl. She can be a useful tool once you learn when and where to use her. It'll keep you alive longer." He walked back to the desk and put the tags in the drawer. "Thus ends the lesson. Can you walk?"

Shepard laughed, and then she groaned as her ribs reminded her of her condition. "Oh, now you care?" Logan laughed at her and tossed her a medi-gel pack. "Yeah, I can walk." She said as she caught the pack. She cracked it and applied it to her ribs. The medicine began to do its work, numbing the pain. She smeared some on her face, bringing the swelling and bruising down. She would still need to get any fractures looked at, but she would be able to move with a little less pain for now.

"So, that's it, huh? Just walk through the door now?" Shepard asked, still feeling a little skeptical.

Logan nodded and waved towards the door. "It's all yours kid. And for the record, despite the fact that it took a beating to get through to you, you did good. Haven't seen anyone move that fast in a while." He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "Well, there is this turian kid I met on the Citadel a few months ago. Works out of C-Sec. Good kid, good reach. Doesn't seem to like the rules too much, though. He might give you a run for your money." He walked over to her and placed a hand on her arm. "Good luck, Commander."


End file.
